


Gray Before the Dawn

by ThePinnIsMightier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo works through some things, D'Qar, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kind of Emo But Gets Sexy at the End, POV Ben Solo, POV Kylo Ren, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Redeemed Ben Solo, Resurrection, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePinnIsMightier/pseuds/ThePinnIsMightier
Summary: Ben Solo, whom Rey has revived, is in hiding while he waits for his love to return to him.Dying had been a cathartic experience for him.It was freeing--comforting even--to finally feel nothing. Welcoming to allow a power greater than himself to put an end to his conflicting feelings and actions in the most absolute way possible. After Death, after he exhaled his last breath, there was nothing. A warm, black and eternal nothingness.He would have preferred that to living, if not for Rey.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Gray Before the Dawn

The roof was leaking again. 

Ben spent ten minutes opening every drawer and cabinet in the small two-room cabin. He searched for a pot, a bucket, anything with a bottom and four sides to catch the obnoxious rivulet of water that puddled by the straw mattress he had called his bed for nearly a month. 

The search was futile, and he knew it. Every time it rained, he retread this path around the cabin, opening the kitchen drawer that only held four pieces of cutlery, the cupboard below the kitchen sink that was bare except for a stiff, oily rag. The linen closet with one tattered blanket on the shelf and a broom missing its handle, the cabinet under the bathroom sink where two rolls of the thinnest, scratchiest toilet paper in the galaxy sat side by side, mocking him.

The only items in the cabin that would hold rainwater were two aluminum cups, a drab silver cup that held twelve ounces and a cup with a little gold-flecked handle that only held six. The twelve-ounce cup was currently sitting under the crack in the roof, water spilling over its brim. 

Sighing, he bent down, moved the full cup aside and placed the empty one under the drip.

Sometimes, when he was feeling more upbeat and positive, he actually walked over to the kitchen and calmly poured the rainwater down the sink like a normal person. But today, with hunger and maddening boredom getting the better of him, he flung the cup toward the kitchen. 

A wave of water arced through the air before gravity pulled it toward the earth and splattered it all over the table and chairs, the empty bookcase, and finally the floor. 

He always felt guilty about his outbursts, especially now, in seclusion with only his thoughts to keep him company. He often had to fight back tears as he cleaned up the messes he made, disappointed with himself. Disappointed, and shamed by the thought of what Rey might think of him or say to him if she were there to witness his tantrums. 

But not today. Today he stomped through the puddles, proud that he'd managed to inflict fleeting destruction upon the rickety cabin where he had been confined--banished, exiled--ever since he and Rey had returned from Exegol. 

There were so many nights where he wanted to use the Force and obliterate the pathetic little shelter, reduce it to a pile of simmering ashes, and walk off into the forest. It would feel so good to truly destroy something again. To wipe something from existence on a whim, because he felt like it and possessed the power to do so.

But he promised Rey he wouldn't use the Force. 

It was the thing he remembered the most from those foggy days after she had brought him back from the World between Worlds. When she had given some of her life to him, holding him in her arms and refusing to let him die and leave her alone in the rubbles of Exegol.

Dying had been a cathartic experience for him. 

It was freeing--comforting even--to finally feel nothing. Welcoming to allow a power greater than himself to put an end to his conflicting feelings and actions in the most absolute way possible. After Death, after he exhaled his last breath, there was nothing. A warm, black and eternal nothingness. 

He would have preferred that to living, if not for Rey. 

She was the one who had seen something more in him, beyond the hate and insecurities that had fastened around the glimmer of light inside him, closing it out to the outside world, and even himself. But not her. Rey brought him back, pulling him from the swirling darkness, the bottomless and chasm and into the light. Into her arms. 

Kylo Ren was dead, but Rey pulled Ben Solo back to the world of the living.

Over the past month, he had lain awake on the itchy mattress, listening to the rain drip through the roof, and tried to hear the words she'd said to him after rescuing him from the depths of Death. He would have given anything to fully remember those moments they spent together, in the damp hollows of Exegol, where the rest of the galaxy felt so far away. 

But he couldn't. 

He could only recall the gentle sensation of her fingertips as they grazed his jawline. Tentative, almost shy, as she swept her hand across the back of his neck. The soft, damp wisps of hair that clung to her forehead. The creases near her eyes as she smiled at him. 

They kissed before his death or after his return, or both, but he couldn't remember. 

He only remembered her hand against his chest as she hoisted him to his feet. Her slender shoulder pressed against his side as she guided him through the ruins of Exegol. He remembered the weakness in his knees, the urge to beg her to leave him there, but she had pushed him forward, shouting directions to him over the roar of the air battle in the sky above them. 

He rode back to the Resistance base in the cargo hold of a ship, alone and hidden out of sight while Rey sat in the cockpit. 

After they landed, and crouched in the shadows of the ship, he saw her reunite with her friends, Finn and Poe Dameron. They wrapped their arms around her shoulders, around her waist, Poe clasping his hand over hers. 

Watching her in this intimate moment with her friends, he felt an anger, the darkness, swirl in his chest, but he was too weak to act on it. Instead he slept. 

She returned to him in the night and flew him to this wretched cabin in the deserted jungles of D'Qar.

"I will come back for you," she told him, palms pressed against the base of his neck. One finger traced the curve of his spine and swirled into his hairline. "It will be safe for you, for us. Soon."

And then she was gone. 

She left him a hyperwave transceiver and sent messages a couple times a week, though they were always politely casual and brief. 

A courier brought him supplies once a week, and though he grilled them for details, they always gave the same general answer: the victory of the Resistance was not instant. It was taking time to spread the word of the Order's demise. They couldn't risk allowing Ben Solo to walk free without knowing that most of the galaxy was aware he was no longer Supreme Leader of the enemy. 

He knew Rey wouldn't let any danger come to him, not after everything they had been through. But Ben himself wouldn't have minded a battle or three. He longed for some excitement, a conflict more complex than figuring out what to do about the stupid leaking roof. 

The sun sank beneath the horizon, and he plopped a plate of cold stew down on the table. As he settled down into one of the wobbling wooden chairs, he felt a flutter in his chest. 

A twinge of Light. The Force. 

Rey?

The footsteps outside were barely audible above the syncopated rhythm of the rain, but he heard someone plodding through the wet leaves and mud toward the front door of the cabin. 

Soon, a knock rattled the rickety clapboard door.

"Ben?"

A male voice. His shoulders sank. 

He wanted to spitefully eat cold stew until whoever was out there went away or drowned in the downpour. But instead he pushed himself to his feet and over to the door. 

The center of his right palm burned, ready to blast away the person who stood on the other side of the thin wooden slats if they proved to be an enemy.

Cautiously, he flipped open the peephole. A man with broad shoulders shrouded in a waterproof cloak stood on the other side. eyes squinted in the mists of the rain. He clutched a large parcel to his chest.

Ben's shoulders tensed, excitement briefly overtaking his disappointment that Rey still hadn't returned. 

At least it was a familiar face. He unhinged the locks and threw open the door. 

"Finn," he said, stepping aside. "It's good to see you. Come in."

Finn shrugged off his cloak and hung it up to dry on one of the hooks beside the door. He sat the parcel and his rucksack down on the table. Wrinkling his nose, lips downturned into a frown, he glanced at the bowl of stew.

"Forget that mess," he said and tapped the parcel. "I brought the good stuff."

"Can you stay? Have dinner with me, maybe?" Ben felt his cheeks burn, embarrassed by his desperate plea for human interaction. 

The cabin was thankfully dim, and Finn didn't seem to notice. "Yeah, I can stay a minute. Fill you in on all the gossip. I'm sure you're dying to know something more than the couriers will tell you."

Ben took the parcel and hurried over to the kitchen, unwrapping it and placing the items on the counter. He commended himself for having washed all his dishes earlier out of boredom, so he could actually serve his guest on clean dinnerware. Except for the cup he'd thrown earlier, which he deftly scooped up from the floor and began washing in the sink. He used actual soap on it instead of merely rinsing it and rubbing the grime off with his fingers like he usually did.

Finn snorted. "Look at you, bustling like a little house-husband."

Ben bristled, chest tense, but he forced himself to let out a chuckle because Finn was a good natured guy and was clearly making a joke.

"Do you have any laundry you need me to do?"

They both laughed, and Ben felt the muscles in his neck relax. 

Finn had brought freshly grilled meat, still warm despite the journey, and Ben portioned out several pieces onto plates for each of them. 

Finn made himself at home at the table and flashed a grin as Ben sat the full plate in front of him. "There's Algarine in that flask, but don't tell on me. I smuggled that into the package myself."

Ben fought the urge to smile. When he and Rey returned after battling Palpatine, Poe--now General Dameron and leader of the entire Resistance army--had wanted to exile Ben, or at the very least imprison him until they could be certain of his allegiance to the Republic. But Finn had sided with Rey. 

That was something Ben did remember from those first hazy days upon his return from Death. Finn had insisted that people's motives, people's hearts, could change. And if Rey trusted Ben, they should trust him too. 

Ben poured a hefty serving of wine into the clean cup for his guest, then took a sip directly from the flask. 

Over dinner, Finn filled him in on the small victories as well as the larger challenges faced by the Resistance as they worked to reinstate the Republic across the galaxy.

Poe and the majority of the fleet continued operations on Ajan Kloss, setting up a more permanent base there. The Resistance sent out fighter ships to defeat the remnants of the Order, and messenger crafts to gather allies in order to rebuild the Galactic Senate. 

Rey traveled on many of the messenger missions, convincing people on planets from the Core to the Outer Rim that the Resistance had successfully eradicated the First Order and the she, the last Jedi, needed their help to restore political balance to the galaxy. 

Word spread quickly that Kylo Ren had met his demise at the hands of Palpatine and, under the direction of Poe, no one moved to correct that rumor, at least for the time being.

No one except a select few, Rey and her closest friends and advisors, knew there was another Jedi in hiding, waiting to take his side by Rey. If she'd let him stand by her. If she'd have him. 

It was safer for Ben that way, and he knew it. But that pragmatic reasoning did little to quell the anger he felt constricting his heart as Finn told him that most people in the galaxy assumed he had died a villain. 

He wondered if Rey indulged the stories, telling people they had battled and she emerged victorious. It's what he would've done if he was in her position. 

The flask on the table rattled, threatening to fall over. 

It was difficult to turn off the Force once one had mastered its dark and destructive side as well as he had. But Ben placed a hand on the flask to steady it, took a few deep breaths and hoped Finn didn't notice. 

Finn did, but his eyes only briefly acknowledged the movement of the flask before he returned his gaze to Ben.

"Look man, I know it's a lot to hear. And it's not exactly comforting, but you aren't gonna be out here forever. Rebuilding an intergalactic democracy sounds like something that would take eons, but we aren't starting from nothing. They just--Rey and Poe-- want to have as many people as possible on their side before we're like, surprise Ben Solo is still alive and he's good now."

Ben nodded and let the silence hang in the air. He finished off the wine in the flask. "You think General Dameron would let me be a Senator?"

"No." Finn's answer was swift. 

They both chuckled, but Ben knew it wasn't a joke. 

He hovered awkwardly near the door while Finn shouldered his rucksack and removed the still-damp cloak from the hook. He leaned against the door frame, then put his hands on his hips, then let his arms drop to his side, trying to appear casual instead of pathetic and clingy. 

He wished Finn would stay longer so he wouldn't be stuck inside the cabin alone, muttering to himself, for another week or longer. He wished Finn would tell him more stories about Rey.

Finn picked up on his tangle of feelings. "Relax man, she's coming back for you."

"Did she say that? Has she said anything about me?" He wanted to die all over again the second the question left his mouth.

Finn didn't respond. Instead, his eyes surveyed the dingy sleeves of Ben's tunic, the grease spots dotted across its chest. The grime under Ben's fingernails and the stringy clumps of hair that hung over his ears. 

"You smell. You know that, right? Like, actively smell. This whole place smells." Finn flung the cloak over his shoulder and fastened it under his chin. "You better be glad I wasn't Rey like you thought I was."

Ben, embarrassed, just gave him a nod. 

Finn pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and opened the door. "Get clean. Keep your mind busy. She'll be stopping by soon, I can feel it."

That night, after a long shower, Ben lay awake on the straw mattress listening to the final drizzles of the rainstorm patter against the roof. 

He was tired, he wanted to sleep, but sleep had been fleeting at best since his return from Exegol. Most nights he tossed and turned, heart racing, forehead damp, until the night gave way to the first moments of light, when the sky blanketed the world in a hazy gray. 

A hazy gray like the seas and the sky on Kef Bir.

Kef Bir, where he had battled Rey. Where she had wounded him, and where she had first pulled him away from Death. Healing his wounds so much more than either of them had realized.

The hazy gray of Kef Bir, where he had last felt his mother reaching out to him in her final moments of life. Where he had last seen the ghost of his father.

Kef Bir, where he had first began to feel the weight of the guilt he still carried. The regret that haunted him, and always would, in the darkest hours of the night, morphing all his dreams into nightmares. Nightmares of his choices, his mistakes. 

He had been so sure in those moments, so absolute in his motives to end his father's life, his mother's life, his uncle's life. Moments he could never relive except in his nightmares where the end was always the same. An end cloaked in death and darkness.

How long would it take for him to accept that Rey had given him a chance to meet a different end than the one he had, whether purposefully or involuntarily, forged for himself? A life away from the darkness, a life in the light, with her if she would give him that honor.

Sleep didn't come to him that night. In the gray hours of the early morning, he got up and used the wax-coated paper from Finn's parcel to patch the roof. 

It felt good to be out in the open, high on the roof, above the ground, under the stars, breathing in the cool, damp air. 

He broke his promise to Rey that he wouldn't use the Force, but as he melded the edges of the wax paper to the existing roof shingles, he thought she would approve. He was breaking the rules for the greater good and wellbeing of mankind. It was something Rey would do.

She finally came to him, as Finn said she would, a little over a week later. 

He spent most of the evening tidying up the cabin then finished a graphic novel the courier had brought him the day before along with his food and supplies. After a shower, he'd attempted sleep, but his heart wouldn't stop racing. 

He got up and made himself a cup of Tarine tea and browsed through the saved messages Rey had sent him, replaying them one by one to hear her voice. 

The tea had cooled enough to drink when he heard the high-pitched whine of a speeder bike, far in the distance. 

The twinge in his heart, the heat across his chest and pulsing in the palms of his hands, was much stronger than he'd felt with Finn, even though she was still at least a mile away. 

He was tempted to use the dyad, to reach out to her, hear her voice again. But he promised her, what now felt like years ago, that he wouldn't use the Force. And he didn't want her to arrive disappointed and scolding.

So he waited. He made a second cup of tea for her, giving her the little cup with the gold-flecked handle. 

He put on his cleanest shirt, then pulled it off, then put it back on again. He ran his palm slowly across the crown of his head, checking his hair, still damp from his shower earlier.

The shiver in his chest grew, throbbing until it was almost painful. He rested a hand on the table to steady himself.

Before he heard her footsteps outside the cabin, her voice came to him across the dyad.

"Ben."

And then she was there, small and shrouded in a sable-colored cloak, the cold mist from the rains marking a dewy trail across her flushed cheeks.

Ben grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the cabin, pulling her body against his. 

She clumsily dropped her rucksack at their feet so she could return his embrace. He felt her raise up on her toes, stretching her face toward his. Her lips brushed his chin. He bent toward her, his lips trying to find hers, but she moved away from him. She dropped her arms from around his shoulders and busied her hands untying the cloak from her shoulders. 

"Let me get inside," she said gently. "Lock the door behind me. I came across some poachers in the forest. They didn't follow me, but I don't want them seeing your light and knowing we're here."

He knew she meant the glow from the cabin's lamps, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking she meant his own light, the one inside him that she had helped him discover. 

He shut and locked the door. The cabin felt so much bigger and warmer with her inside it.

"You made tea." 

Her smile. He never wanted to stop looking at her.

"I thought you might like some."

"You knew I was coming?"

"I felt you--"

Rey's brow furrowed. "You used the Force?" 

"Not at all, I promise."

She narrowed her eyes, head playfully titled to one side.

"Okay, not much. And never outside. Well, once outside, but that's it." An anxious edge crept into his voice. A timidity that felt foreign to him, especially because he knew she was teasing. But even so he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her, even in jest. 

She laughed, breaking the tension and suddenly her body was against his again. He bent quickly this time, letting her drape her arms over his shoulders, her hands finding their way through his hair. He kissed her neck, and she leaned into it.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she gently guided his head away from her neck so her lips could brush against his jaw and cheek, lingering briefly before they moved to find his lips. With one hand, he squeezed her hip and pulled it roughly toward his. He felt her gasp, and he slid his other hand across her shoulders. She let his fingers trace the slender curve of her neck as he kissed her more deeply. 

Her tongue grazed his bottom lip and she let out a soft moan before pulling away. She rested her forehead against his shoulder. 

"This is…" She paused, and he leaned back so he could survey her face. Flushed cheekbones, lips still parted, eyes wide and hopeful as she returned his gaze. "This is all I've ever wanted for so long. But do you mind if I eat first?"

"Of course. I'm sorry, I should've offered something." He dropped his hands away from her, though she let her hands linger on his back and chest for a moment before pulling away.

"There's food in my…"

He didn't wait for her to finish. He switched into house-husband mode and picked up her rucksack and, placing his hand on the small of her back, guided her toward the table and chairs to sit while he unpacked the food and supplies she'd brought.

He dragged his chair close to hers and sat, knee gently grazing against her thigh, while she ate and told him of her journeys to the Core Worlds, the Inner Rim, and even as far as the Chiss Ascendancy with Poe, where they waged battle with the Aristocra until Rey was able to use the weight of her lineage and powers to forge a tentative alliance with their government. 

He listened, enraptured, to all her adventures and travels that had finally brought her back to him. 

"It all feels so foreign, unnatural even," she said as she pushed her empty plate away from her. "When I was scavenging on Jakku, I was so sure of myself and my existence. My purpose in life. But now, I just…I don't know, Ben. I make it up as I go along and hope it turns out all right. And of course, I have people around me to help. Poe and--"

He pressed his shoulder against hers. "Don't diminish your own abilities. Your impact and. . . what you can bring to people." 

He rested his hand on her knee, and she immediately covered it with her own, guiding his fingertips ever so slightly toward the gap between her thighs. 

"You're what gives people hope," he managed to say, though he was mostly fighting the urge to flip over the table and tear off her tunic. He wanted her, and he could feel that she wanted him too, but he wouldn't let his urges overshadow what she was saying. The vulnerability and intimacy she was offering him. "You're a Jedi."

"You're a Jedi too," she replied quickly. "You're a Skywalker."

"In the eyes of the galaxy, I'm currently dead." He didn't mean for it to sound defensive, but there was an edge in his voice neither could deny.

He felt Rey's muscles tense under his palm, but her voice was soft. "I know it's been hard for you. Not just staying here in seclusion, but all of this. Everything."

His mother's face flashed in his mind, and then his father. The look of shock, and sadness, before his father's lifeless body fell from the bridge.

Ben fleetingly wished he could hide these images from Rey, but he knew she saw them. He knew she could feel his emotions, his regret, pulsing through his palm and into her.

"There's a lot to work out. With myself. With you." He leaned back, pressing his shoulder blades against the creaky wooden slat of the chair. He tried to let his hand drop away from her thigh, but she held it there, fingers curling over his.

"I want to. I want to be here while you do that," she said. Her eyes searched his face. He wanted to look away but didn't. 

"I know."

She showered while he washed the dishes and did his best to tidy up the straw mattress, though there wasn't much he could do to enhance his shabby bed. The sheets were clean, the blanket soft and warm. He'd let her have the small pillow. He hoped that would be enough for her, although he knew it would be. She didn't ask for much. Still, he wished he could give her more, and hopefully soon he could.

Rey emerged from the bathroom wrapped in his dark green bathrobe. "The water was surprisingly hot. It felt good to shower somewhere besides a ship for once."

Her hair was wet and fell loosely around her shoulders. She had cinched the robe belt tightly around her waist, but the split of the fabric plunged almost to her navel, exposing the damp skin between her small breasts. 

Ben dropped the plate he was holding but managed to catch it before it clattered to the floor. "It's not too bad," he said lamely.

Rey tried to suppress her smile, but her cheeks creased, revealing her dimples, and Ben felt his heart quicken. Looking at her, naked except for the robe, his robe. 

"Ben." She let out a timid chuckle, eyes briefly glancing at the floor before returning to him, surveying his face, his arms, his torso and legs. 

"Rey." 

He abandoned the dishes and went to her. 

She instinctively took a step back. He hesitated, heart pounding against his ribcage. All the confidence he possessed, all the swagger and charm melted away at her glance. He had spent so much of his life amassing power, and feeling so powerful and sure of himself, but with Rey made him meek and helpless. Subjective to her want, though he wanted her more than anything and felt she wanted him too.

After a brief moment, after tilting her head ever so slightly, letting her dimples crease her blushing cheeks, she jumped toward him. He caught her, his hands sliding under her hips. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he gently moved the fabric of the robe aside and let this fingertips graze along the length of her thighs as he kissed her, their tongues brushing.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, and he walked them over to the mattress. He let his tongue trace the curve of her lips, then lowered her down onto the bed. She fumbled with the belt of the robe, swiftly fighting to untie it. He pulled off his shirt.

Rey shrugged off the robe, and he paused, fingers resting on the button of his pants, to admire her. She smiled shyly under his gaze before moving her hands to his pants, helping him out of them. 

Then they were both naked, his chest against hers, She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his thighs as she arched her back, and he ran his tongue along her neck.

Afterward, she fell asleep on his shoulder, her forehead pressed gently against his neck. 

He stroked her forearm, fingers brushing against the curve of her breast, and he felt her smile as she draped her leg over his waist. The tension in his chest, the pain he had carried with him for years, dissipated and faded away into nothingness.

Outside the rain pelted against the trees and the roof. The black sky slowly gave way to a hazy gray. 

Ben closed his eyes and slept.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my friend AL as a standalone, but I might add more if she wants.


End file.
